


Dust in the wind, sunshine on your hands

by MafagafoGirl



Series: Mindless and Hopeless [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Extreme grief, Gen, Genocide Run, Insanity, Suicide mention, Unreliable Narrator, alcohol mention, idk - Freeform, might need to get tissues, really heavy stuff, sad skeleton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 16:11:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6015985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MafagafoGirl/pseuds/MafagafoGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Papyrus is brave and Sans gets mad.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This is my first work here. Hope you guys like it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dust in the wind, sunshine on your hands

**Author's Note:**

> Unreliable narrators are my passion.  
> Something I'd like to explain beforehand, in fear of not being well explained in the work:
> 
> Here the speaker (the narrator in case) refers to Chara as an "it"; this is because it is written through Sans' eyes, and taking on the theory that monsters read souls (explaining why everybody already says Frisk is they/them without being told, and why Asgore can't recognise you in the end of a genocide run). Since Frisk's soul was corrupted by Chara, the monster skeleton couldn't read the soul as human neither as monster, so he says it's a "thing".  
> Taking this out of the way,
> 
> I apologise beforehand.

Sans had a feeling in his guts that there was something wrong.

That… that  _ thing _ he left behind… He did warn it. He did say it was going to have a bad time if it laid even one of its dusty fingers on his brother. There was nothing to worry about, he kept reassuring himself, he just had to stay on his Waterfall sentry station for a while. Something told him that he might get a break soon.

However… He didn’t even have a gut, but something that equated to it was twisting and turning and he didn’t enjoy it. The skeleton nibbled again at the empty bottle of ketchup on his hand --he’d have to get another one from Grillby, possibly take some mayonnaise as well --annoyed with the feeling, and stood up, looking down at the small mousehole on the wall and wondering where the little rascal would be. Your Sins was a really intelligent rat, albeit a little lazy. Just like his owner, Sans figured, noticing that his pet has actually left a message for him through the echo flower. Even if just a little squeak. Your Sins was a really cool rat. The skeleton curved down and knocked quickly with two knuckles above the mousehole, just to see if the little monster was there. He wasn’t. Maybe he was swinging past Snowdin or something. Papyrus always left spaghetti for him at one of his house entrances up in the forest.

Sans’ non-gut was telling him there was something wrong with him. Something wrong with Papyrus. Just after realizing Your Sins wasn’t there, he straightened up and shortcutted to Grillby’s, only to find it… Empty. He checked every corner, nobody was there, not even the fire elemental himself. Ignoring the “fire elementals only” plaque, the skeleton peeked into the kitchen, finding it empty as well except for a little paper, burned around the edges, left on one of the counters:

 

_ “Dear Sans, _

_ Your brunch is in the fridge. A little thing has arrived from the ruins, and it has killed every monster in the forest. It is coming for Snowdin, if it already hasn’t arrived at the time of your reading; but Papyrus has told Undyne, and she commanded the remaining dog guards to evacuate the city. We are in a special shelter in Hotlands. I hope to see you there. _

_ Do not attempt to fight this child (??). It has killed half of the Snowdin’s royal guard. Who knows what it would do to someone as fragile as you. _

_ Always yours, _

_ Grillby. _

_ PS: Papyrus did not come with us.” _

 

That last sentence. That sent chills down his spine, because he already knew what would happen.

The ‘great Papyrus’ would try to stop the kid. Sans couldn’t let this happen. Not to his little brother.

He rushed out of the diner, and out of town, finally reaching the misty area before Waterfall.

There was nobody there.

He crept around the bushes, calling his brother’s name quietly, in a rushed tone. Where could he even be?

Sans looked around one last time, as the wind started howling lightly. There it was.

He was late.

The dust wasn’t even there; all that was left was a red scarf in a pile in the middle of the road.

Sans stumbled forward, attempting to keep sane. The word “no” repeated itself on his head, over and over and over, each time becoming more desperate, becoming less of an incredule note and more of a desperate orchestra.

He couldn’t take it. Not now, that he’s got the red stream of cloth by his feet. He fell onto his knees, already letting out desperate gasps trying to control his own derailed train of thought, grabbing the scarf as if it was a bundle of blankets holding a small baby.

It’s way lighter than what he remembered.

The skeleton finally arched, burying his forehead in the cold wet snow, gross and deep sobs shaking his whole body, while he kept clutching into that scarf, as if doing so would make his baby brother come back; but alas, he was already taken, taken by the wind, spread across the snowy paths, spread across the silent trees, maybe even reaching the river, where hopefully he would maybe reunite with his family at the CORE.

Sans was beyond rational reasoning. He couldn’t stop crying. Papyrus was the only thing that kept him going, the only reason he woke up in the morning, and he would take a swing of a knife to the chest for him if that would give him enough time to flee. But now he was gone. Scattered by the wind. Murdered by a child… No…  _ Whatever _ that thing was, it was certainly  _ not _ a child, even if it took the shell of one as a vessel for its unfathomable cruelty. The short skeleton was in pieces, unable to think, unable to move --unless holding a scarf closer and closer and tighter and tighter to his chest counted as movement-- unable to do anything that would take him from that transe.

Who knows how long he stood there. The snow piled up around him, and the mist soaked his neck and his back. A good thing about magic tears is that you never run out of them; you can keep on crying, for as long as you want, until you feel better, or your magic is entirely drained out of you, and your body can no longer cling to your soul and you start to fall down as well.

But before that wonderfully welcoming event happened, someone --Sans couldn’t see who, deep he was in his own sorrow-- gently took him, cold and long hands holding him and carrying him somewhere else, until they let go of his jacket sitting him in a booth; he was back at the warmth of the empty Grillby’s, and the hands were gone as the shadows crepitated slightly. The skeleton’s head was still buried in the scarf, holding the thing that now represented his dear brother, letting out slower sobs, now a bit more calmed down by the warm wood and the smell of fried goods around him.

He finally stopped crying and looked up; the diner was still empty as always, and the warm envoirnment was starting to cool down --even the bright orange light emanating from the chandelier on the celing was starting to die out. Everything seemed muted, seared…

Dead.

Sans staggered numbly towards the counter where Grillby would often be seen, getting behind it and crouching to see what bottles the fire elemental kept there, still clinging to the red scarf. His eyesockets passed through the ketchup; passed through the mayonnaise, even passed through the mustard, and rested on the old glass bottles with clear liquids on them; they were covered in dust and sooth, for it has been a long time since someone has ever touched those. The underground was a place for condiments, tea and soda, not whiskey. The skeleton felt compelled to take the dust out of those bottles, to empty them once and for all, wondering what the effect of alcohol would be on monsters; maybe he could even poison himself with that, who knows.

He was dwellling with those thoughts, when through the corner of his eyesocket, he noticed one of the ends of the scarf on his arms fall in the ground, and got its message; Papyrus wouldn’t approve this. He could almost hear his brother’s shrilly and high-pitched voice in a rarely low tone, asking him not to do it.

How could he deny this favor to his brother?

What else was he supposed to do, then?

The skeleton stood up again, holding the red bundle against his chest, and left the diner. His house actually felt appealing right now; maybe he’d lay down on the couch and hibernate until the kid comes back to certify that noone else was alive. Maybe it would find him and finally sweep him out of existence.

_ “remember what i used to sing to ya, paps? b’fore we got hold of any bedtime story books?” _

He leaned against the side wall of Grillby’s, looking up at the misty cavern ceiling. The leaning became a slide, and the slide burried his knees in snow.

_ “you’re my _

_ sun- _

_ shine. _

_ my only… sunshin- _

 

_ you make me _

_ ha- _

_ ppy… _

_ when skies are _

_ gray... _

_ y-you don’t know, _

_ bro, _

_ h-how much- _

_ i love ya _

  
  


_ p-p-p-p-pleas- _

_ don’t take my sunshine _

  
  
  


_ away…” _

  
  


Sans’ sobs were cut short by tiny claws needling his femur. Looking up from Papyrus’ scarf, he saw the rat skeleton with cardboard ears taped to his cranium, resting on his rear paws and looking at him with a tilted head, eyesockets open wide with tiny white dots staring at him with curiosity.

Your Sins has finally come out of his mousehole. He wanted to check on his owner.

_ “hey, buddy.” _ Sans reached for the rat’s head, petting him with a gentle fingertip.

It’s amazing how tragedy brings people together. If this rampage has even made the rat do something, and the rat was lazier than Sans himself, maybe it was time for the skeleton to act.

He had to do something. He would stop the child.

Papyrus objeted. Sans didn’t listen. The kid would pay for everything it’s done.

_ It’s pure madness!!! _

_ “no it’s not.” _

_ It will dust you!!! _

_ “you know nothing. you’re dead.” _

The short skeleton finally stood up, wrapping the scarf around his neck. Your Sins crawled up his leg, ending up on his hoodie.

_ “d’ya wanna help too, lil rascal?” _

The rat squeaked yes.

_ What would the rat be of use, Sans???  _

_ “he’ll care so that the situation doesn’t get cheesy.” _

Sans laughed, walking past his Waterfall sentry station, laughed wholeheartedly, manically, empty and shivery. Your Sins shifted behind him, gripping its tiny claws onto the fluffy borders of Sans’ hood. 

That kid had no idea what it’s gotten itself into.

 

Your Sins fought well. He crawled on its back, he weighted on its neck, making it hard for the child to move around and dodge Sans’ reckless attacks.

As for Sans himself, he was getting tired; he wasn’t fit for fighting, and sooner or later, he’d be struck by that child’s frying pan as well. Why the kid had a frying pan was beyond his reasoning. Something on the back of his mind told him that it’s been ten times. The big one-oh. They should invite all their friends over for a big shindig. They could have pie, and hotdogs, but… Something wasn’t right.

_ All our friends are dead. _

Eventually, the kid would kill him, in one of its turns. So he decided that it wouldn’t be its turn. Never.

But he forgot that he cheated. And the thing was a quick learner.

Somehow, the pan cut him. It hurt, more than anything.

He also found out that he had magic blood as well.  _ “that’s cool.” _

The skeleton coughed up some of it.

_ … _

_ Sans? _

_ … _

_ “so… guess that’s it, huh?...” _

_ You should heal up, Sans!!! You’re leaking!!! _

_ “...just… don’t say i didn’t warn ya.” _

_ Stop ignoring me!!! _

The child stood there, hand holding the pan numb on its side, with a sharp smile and a shine on its eyes. A shine that said ‘I finally did it!’

Slowly, Sans stood up, still holding the wound across his torso, panting heavily. 

_ It’s finished!!! It’s over, Sans, you can go back to your routine!!! Everything is fine!!! _

_ “welp. i’m going to grillby’s.” _

The skeleton pathetically limped down the hall, too weak to use any shortcuts, leaning onto the pillars and the walls, leaving behind a trail of blood; the thing stared at him, watching him disappear around the door to New Home.

  
_ “papyrus, do you want anything?” _

**Author's Note:**

> And that was it.  
> Fun, right?
> 
> My tumblr is http://artiesbutt.tumblr.com  
> feel free to scream at me any time you'd like.
> 
> Also thanks to DoniDrabbles. They're my beta reader and really cool friend.


End file.
